


the vessel in deep disrepair

by meliorism



Series: tempora mutantur [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Established Relationship, Fallout Kink Meme, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Blind Betrayal, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meliorism/pseuds/meliorism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an exercise in redefining mankind. <i>Holding onto Sole and Shaun only fills Danse with despair. His hands are shaking and yet he can’t move away. It sends a cold shiver of electricity down his spine. Flesh is flesh. Machine is machine—</i></p><p>  <i>Sole will hold him through it.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	the vessel in deep disrepair

**Author's Note:**

> written for the fallout kink meme as a fill for this [prompt](http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6855.html?thread=16564679): _Post-Blind Betrayal. I just need some gentle, loving, sex between Danse and Nate. Maybe it's been a couple of months and Danse is feeling angsty? So Nate reassures him. Bottom!Nate please ;_;_
> 
> features big time spoilers from the brotherhood quest **blind betrayal** as well as a certain someone from the endgame.

Sometimes, Sole wakes up to find his left arm cradled in Danse’s hand, his head on his chest. It is a sudden thing, but once it starts it becomes something of a ritual. Sole doesn’t entirely understand it, but much like what he went (is _going_ ) through, he knows acceptance is a thing that stretches and develops with hiccups. When it happens, Danse holds his wrist so the Pip-Boy doesn’t cast light right on Sole’s face. The screen is dim, but Sole can still tell Danse is transfixed on his vitals. Danse’s cheek is smooshed right up against where Sole’s heart beats, his chest rises and falls, audible even through the thin shirt.

Luckily, Danse is so absorbed by his heartbeat that he doesn’t notice Sole’s awakening.

On nights like this, Sole curls his right arm tighter around Danse and drifts off again.

And after nights like this, Sole wakes up cocooned in Danse’s arms and tucked against his warm body. He finds Danse’s hand over his ribcage, his fingers pressed against the spaces between the ribs, and he wonders what demons keep him awake at night, what songs of comfort Danse finds in his breathing.

*

Eating is a chore on days like these.

Danse will eye the food, inspect it as if it might help him analyze its radiation composition. The thing is, Sole is unfailingly gentle with him. He gives Danse what foods he can scrounge up that taste the least like cardboard. Sugar Bombs, sweet rolls, Fancy Lads Snack Cakes; the sort of foods Danse would find cloyingly sweet before. There are days when he refuses to eat, and Sole sits at his side even long after he’s ended his meal, humming along with what’s playing on the radio while he rubs soothing circles on Danse’s back.

They have to move. Each temporary shelter they make is just that—temporary—but Sole will still sit with him.

“A machine shouldn’t—” Danse gasps, draws in a tight breath instead of contemplating his food, “I shouldn’t need to eat. These resources would be better left with you.”

Sole gives him a look. He turns his whole body to Danse. “Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t one.” He speaks like he does when he’s chastising Deacon for a lie, when he’s scolding Shaun for refusing to sleep. Like he’s willing to embrace and tame what Danse is going through. He’s gotten better at steeling himself for these situations, at not showing frustration.

“Please.” He’s talking at Danse at this point with firm words and a gentle voice. “Remember what you said about losing me? Well, it goes both ways. And if you really want to protect me, I need you at your best.”

Danse doesn’t dare ask why anymore, not since Sole talked and pleaded his throat raw for him to contemplate his worth.

“We’ll start small, alright?” His voice is so soft. “Just try eating half of that cake. For me.”

Sole places a kiss on the corner of Danse’s mouth. Aiming is difficult when Danse is clad in power armor. He places another right at the center for good measure, along with a lazy sweep of his tongue. He tastes like Nuka-Cola. Danse can taste the stardust in his lips.

Danse blinks.

“I can try,” he promises.

*

It isn’t that Sole’s sleep is free of demons, as Danse likes to remind him that sometimes he talks in his sleep. Sometimes he screams, waking Danse before he wakes up himself. Danse, however, does his best not to involve Sole—Danse slips away from their bedding. Sometimes he dismantles his gun to make it whole again right after. Sometimes Sole wakes up and watches his restless hands until he pleads him to come back.

He always does.

Sole hums to him to sleep.

His fingers digging into the meat of Danse’s arms chant _let me in let me in let me in let me in let me in let me_ —

*

Sole was sleeping. Now he is awake—it’s almost 7 AM if his Pip-Boy is a good indicator, and Danse is slipping back into bed behind him. He curls himself around Sole’s back. A trembling hand comes up to feel Sole’s heartbeat.

Sole puts his hand over Danse’s. He likes his hands—they are broad, strong, gentle. He likes the way there’s a little crease between Danse’s eyebrows when Sole tells him exactly how he likes his hands. He doesn’t think he will ever tire of reminding him of that.

“Not sleeping well?” he asks, filling the spaces between Danse’s fingers.

“It’s nothing,” says Danse. His nose bumps against the back of Sole’s neck.

Sole studies his reaction and shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. Don’t think I’ll let this go just like that.” It’s somewhat easier for Danse to talk like this, he knows. “Talk to me, please.”

Of course, he can feel and hear Danse swallowing dry behind him. It’s a while before he speaks.

“It’s been over two months since it happened. Shouldn’t I have learned to move on at this point?” Danse says, fingers toying with Sole’s shirt. “You have done so much to help me ever since, all the people you have gathered, too. You are such an amazing example. And yet I still feel like I’m barely grasping my situation. It feels like, at times, I can barely keep up with you.”

Sole’s hand tightens around Danse’s. “You’re doing great, Danse.”

“I’m sure you feel like I could be doing something more.” Sole tries not to get angry _for_ Danse, at his impossibly strict standards. Danse continues, “You have done so good for the Commonwealth and I’ve been of no use. How can you not want more from me?”

“Danse, are you trying to ask me if I’m mad at you?” Sole’s voice is a hesitant thing.

“Not exactly. I’m—”

“You’re recovering, Danse. Everything I’ve done? You’ve been there for me, with me. Always. My actions are yours. Can’t you see that?”

Danse huffs. “Surely you can’t believe what you’re saying.”

Sole inhales sharply. He’s wiggling in Danse’s arms so he can look him in the eye. Grasp his wrist and cup his face so Danse can see just how much he means it when he says,

“I do. And I can’t on good conscience ask you to do more than what you’re doing already.”

He’s running his thumb along the shape of Danse’s cheekbone. Danse scowls at him.

“Actually,” Sole starts before Danse can continue, “the only thing I can—but I won’t—ask of you is to stop being so hard on yourself. But then I guess it wouldn’t be you, huh?”

“ _Are_ you mad at me?” Asks Danse.

Sole is kissing him. There isn’t any fervor to it. It is delicate, a soft little thing that claws its way into the depths of Danse’s throat and what fears reside in there. It doesn’t last too long, either. Danse follows him as soon as he pulls out.

“I can’t be mad at you. I’m mad at who did this to you.” There’s that righteousness back from the listening post in his voice. “You’re a good man, Danse. You try your damnest and that is enough.” His blunt nails dig into Danse’s shoulder. “I need you to understand that.”

This time it’s Danse who starts the kiss. He’s never been good with words. Affectionate words, not laid out in protocol. The kiss is awkward at first, slightly off center even though Sole’s guiding his face. They get it right at a second try, and Danse is rewarded with a low moan as Sole devours his mouth. They change positions the same time as they accommodate. Danse rolls Sole onto his back, and he ends up curled on top of him, a warm thigh between Sole’s legs. The mattress is old, pre-war, and as such it groans under the weight of two grown men. Sole spares a moment to laugh breathless but that is cut short when Danse holds him down to kiss him. Sole’s mouth is open and inviting.

It’s better this time, but when they part Sole is serious again.

Sole’s asking, “Is this okay? Do you want this now?”

Danse nods with religious fervor.

It’s what Sole needs to start working his shirt off. He feels Danse starting to get hard already, and his cock is all too happy to respond when Danse’s hips press against his own. Sole’s also quick to mourn when Danse puts space between them to kiss his way down Sole’s body. Sole opens his legs, and Danse is quick to lay a hand over thin underwear, cupping the shape of Sole’s erection. “You’re so warm,” he says. Sole smothers him with a wet kiss.

Sole’s hands start shaking with the urge to just remove Danse’s clothing all at once, so he just sits up to take off his shirt and pants and underpants. Sole watches him, starstruck. It’s Danse who shimmies Sole’s briefs down the long length of his legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sole breathes. “I love you so much—fuck me, please fuck me.”

Danse looks as awkward as his laughter.

He can’t use those words like Sole does. Danse calls it making love and while it makes him laugh airily, it is what this is. Sole loves him for that.

But Sole’s enthusiasm does things to Danse. He knows it. It’s written in the way Danse’s hands roam his sides and he presses openmouthed kisses to places Sole doesn’t share with anyone else these days. Danse means to kiss the inside of his knee before he moves to the other thigh, but after a little while Sole just mumbles, “Danse, please.” He is so impatient.

When Danse mouths the base of Sole’s cock, kissing and licking, he’s briefly incapable of forming coherent sentences. His legs clamp onto the sides of Danse’s head. Danse likes it like this. Sole’s fingers make a bird’s nest out of his hair. Sole sighs, “God.” His toes curl against Danse’s back. “Please, Danse,” his voice is high. “Let me make you feel good.” He’s noisy like this. His fingers curl against Danse’s shoulder.

Danse presses a kiss against the soft skin at the head of Sole’s cock. “You are,” he says. “You really are.”

Sole tugs Danse’s face close to him and kisses all over before he finds his mouth. At this point, his idea of a kiss is something like licking all over his lips. He curls his hand around Danse’s cock. All Danse can do is shudder against him.

“I have lube, if you’re up for it.” Sole gasps when Danse runs the backs of his fingers over his erection. “You want that?”

He does.

Danse gives him space so he can stretch and reach for the jar of slick they’ve been using these days. Soon enough Sole’s on his back with wet fingers inside himself. Danse helps him. Between Sole’s ring and middle fingers and Danse’s finger it’s a tight fit, so Sole just focuses on preparing Danse’s cock. Danse can’t help but bounce his stare between Sole’s squirming around his fingers and Sole’s face and Sole’s hand around his cock. They’re thorough—together they bring Sole to the edge until he’s drenched and once more unable to join more than a few words.

It’s a rhythm that’s becoming familiar, much like their roles in the battlefield. They make it work. Danse finds his place between Sole’s open thighs. He thrusts home with a moan and a reverent bow of his head. Sole folds one leg around Danse’s thick waist, heel pressed up against his back. Danse hugs the other close to his chest. Sole’s urging Danse with adoring hands and fingers running down his sides, digging into the meat of his ass and the backs of his thighs.

But Danse, well. Danse doesn’t tease. He’s so good to him. Danse takes him with gentle, slow, deep rolls of his hips that are just stilted enough to be unmistakably his, perfect.

Danse takes one of Sole’s hands and squeezes it like he needs the reassurance. But he doesn’t know a word other than _God_ and Sole’s name so that’s all he can say. Sole’s bringing his hand to his mouth to kiss each knuckle and the tip of his fingers. He’s licking Danse’s fingers, chasing the taste of ozone left over on them.

Sole wants more. So he’s pushing Danse onto his back, gathering himself in his lap as his hand guides him back inside. He buries his face into Danse’s neck. Danse hugs him close, Sole’s erection trapped between them. He feels transcendental, infinite. He’s running at his mouth, tenderly, right into the shell of Danse’s ear.

“Look at you. You’re so beautiful, Danse. So perfect. I don’t care if you were made—you were made so perfectly, you’re the best man I know. So good.” Danse shivers against him. “Wish I could live under your skin.” Sole loves him so much.

Sole ends up on his back again. Somewhat. Twisted so his hips are propped up on one side. Danse’s hugging his thigh to his chest again, squeezing it. It’s soothing. It’s perfect. “There,” he mumbles. “Like that, right there.”

Danse complies. He gets to see Sole red faced and with blonde hair all over his face, running free from its loop. A hand around his cock. He’s noisy, but that’s okay. So is Danse. Sole comes first, no surprise there, shaking, smiling with perfect teeth, cursing. He spills over his stomach. His hands guide Danse by the ass until he too finishes, inside. He forgets how to breathe, staring at Sole as he’s laying his leg next to the other.

“Cat got your tongue?” Sole asks with a hoarse voice.

Danse collapses on top of him as it is, bundles him up in his arms.

“You okay?” Sole asks. He’s kissing Danse’s temple and cheek and neck and shoulder and rubbing the hairs on his stomach.

He feels Danse smiling against him. “I definitely am.” Sole curls his arms tighter around him.

*

Shaun’s head is heavy against his stomach. He’s asleep on the dead grass, curled against Sole’s side. He’s probably too big for this, but Sole will take any chance he can get to grasp the years he couldn’t with his son. Sole doesn’t care. And so he curls his arms around his son and cradles him against his side as he listens to the radio.

He allows himself this moment of quiet; he can kill muties and ferals later, after all.

That’s how Danse finds him.

“He looks so peaceful,” he says, voice full of wonder.

Sole hums, his hands card through Shaun’s locks of hair. They’re starting to curl at the tips. Just like his.

“It’s amazing how you were allowed just this one chance to be with him.” Danse kneels by his other side, his movements awkward when he isn’t shielded by steel. His hand hovers Shaun’s head. “It is—incredible, that something good could be touched by the Institute.” His voice is low so it won’t disturb Shaun.

Sole doesn’t hesitate in putting his hand over Danse’s and guiding it to rest on Shaun’s hair.

“It didn’t ruin you,” Sole murmurs. He has to squint to look at Danse, whose face is positioned so it covers the sun. His hair is a burning halo. “Danse, they made you. They made you and you are such a wonderfully made soul.”

He says it with the same conviction in his eyes he had when he talked Elder Maxson down. The way his eyes flashed fire, the righteousness in his being as he asked _what right do you have_ and _how dare you_ and _let him live_. Something fierce, too intense for his soft voice. It’s the same, now. He can move mountains if he wills it.

Danse can’t look away.

There must be something in his expression, because Sole lets go of Shaun’s side so he can pull Danse down and bump their foreheads together.

“You are everything to me. Both of you,” he vows. “I hope you realize that.”

Holding onto Sole and Shaun only fills Danse with despair. His hands are shaking and yet he can’t move away. It sends a cold shiver of electricity down his spine. _Flesh is flesh. Machine is machine_ —

Sole will hold him through it.


End file.
